


Little Brother

by WritingsOfAHobbit



Series: Thranduil/Reader Stories [17]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4299570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingsOfAHobbit/pseuds/WritingsOfAHobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hello! Here I am again. Can I please request a Thranduil & human wife fic, please? In which his wife gave birth to his second son. They’re all very overjoyed. Especially Legolas, because he felt alone being an only child and had always wanted a sibling. He felt so happy when the reader shows him his brother for the first time. Just some cute family fluff. It took me a little thinking to come up with something which hasn’t been requested before. I hope you’ll write it please. Thank you! :)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Brother

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t want to make Legolas very young, as I know that 5 in elvish years is still very infantile. However it’s completely unrealistic for a human to live long enough for Legolas to be a tween. So I’m playing on the idea that maybe the reader has Dúnedain blood and married at the age of 16 or something, which would enable her to have two children many years apart.

You had forgotten the pain, the exhaustion and the vows to never do that again the moment you held the bundle of swaddled cloth in your arms. Eyes so pale that they’re almost white stare up at you unblinking, a small pink cupids bow puckered into an ‘o’, hair like molten gold sticking up in a manner that will never be allowed again.

Around you people are talking, but the words are nothing more than a distant murmur in your mind. Every fibre of your being is focused on the precious, delicate baby in your arms. Even your husband enthusiastically listing baby names doesn’t deter your attention. The babe could be called ‘Orch’ or ‘Pe-channas’ and it would still be the most beautiful thing to have ever graces this world.

Thranduil tries to take the babe from you and you briefly resist, arms closing tightly around the small boy. Then you remember that this is his son as much as it is yours, and if it weren’t for him then you would not be blessed with such a child. You relinquish your hold, though your hands hover ever nearby.

“You may leave us.” the King commands of the healers who had attended the birth. “Send the Ríëharyon in.”

The healers present an assortment of bows and curtseys, as well as words of well wishes, before gathering their bowls and herbs and stepping from the room. A few minutes later there is a gentle knock at the door.

“Enter!” Thranduil calls, for it appears that your voice is still lost to you.

The door opens to admit your first born, looking more grownup now that he ever has before. “They’ve come?” the excitement in Legolas’ voice is barely containable, and the young boy practically vibrates with energy.

Seeing your firstborn so excited reminds you how to speak and you smile, opening your arms to him. “Come and meet your baby brother.”

A grin breaks out across Legolas’ face and he runs to the bedside and pulls himself up next to you. You bite back a pained complaint as he unceremoniously climbs over your legs to pull back the blanket shielding his brother’s face.

Legolas sucks in a breath, his eyes widening to rival the moon. “He’s mine?”

“He is your pia onóro, yes.” Thranduil smiles, patting the head of his eldest son.

“I want him!” Legolas launches himself onto his backside, folds his legs and holds out his hands expectantly.

You scoot up the bed a little, using your husband’s shoulder for leverage. “You must be very careful, do you understand?”

Legolas nods vigorously.

“The little one is as delicate as glass and as precious as the starlight.” you reiterate. “If you are not careful, you will loose him.”

“I will never lose him or hurt him!” Legolas declares, arms still outheld for his baby brother. Thranduil carefully transfers the baby into the lap of the eldest prince. Legolas’ arms immediately wrap around the small bundle, fingers lightly prodding at round cheeks and a button nose. The baby makes no noise other than a brief gurgle, and Legolas sits perfectly still for the better part of five minutes. Then he looks up at you, eyes wide and an even wider smile on his face. “Elenion.” He states proudly.

You exchange a look with your husband, before asking the boy to explain.

“His name is Elenion, for he is as precious to me as the brightest star. With him, I could face an eternity of darkness.”

A smile blossoms across your face and you lean forwards to kiss both of their foreheads. “My Legolas and my Elenion.”


End file.
